


Get Hurt and Die Trying.

by Associatedbears



Category: Killing Eve (2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Racist Language, Soft Villanelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Associatedbears/pseuds/Associatedbears
Summary: Eve gets hurt and Villanelle gets involved
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 15
Kudos: 137





	Get Hurt and Die Trying.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing Killing Eve. Thanks to Anna for being my Beta. Comments are love, please feed the Muse and enjoy.

Get hurt and die trying 

“.... Fuck ....”  
Eve was aware of extreme pain and deafening noise, coming back to herself; from a dark place very far away. Exhaustion and cold, so very cold. What the hell had happened? Everything hurt and what the fuck was that screaming noise? Who even makes that sort of racket? She tiredly tried to open her eyes and make sense of what was happening. She wished the screaming would stop hammering her poor head into a world of pain. Where was she? What the hell had happened?  
She cringed in the bright light as her eyes opened, it all came flooding back at once, an awareness that felt like a nightmare. She’d been reading a novel, travelling home to her bedsit apartment on the Tube and she’d been targeted, by some massive man, a giant, dressed all in black. Black jacket and shirt, black jeans and gloves and bulky leather boots.  
Her mind instinctively recoiled and she remembered wondering if this was an Assassin sent from The Twelve: finally there to kill her, once and for all. She laughed weakly, even though it really hurt her chest and reflected ruefully that it wasn’t an Assassin after all, just some random Racist. On a train, of all places. Trying to take her out on a train. Oh the irony.  
She could still hear His deep voice, rough with anger, as He had walked up to her seat and started spewing invectives at her.  
“Hey, you Slope-eyed Chinese Bitch. You shouldn’t be here, you’re gonna kill us all, with your Chinese Virus. You listening to me, you dirty, diseased Cunt?” She’d tried to ignore him; but he wasn’t best pleased with that reaction. He wanted a different reaction. She cringed as she remembered the events that had followed.  
She had tried to get up and escape, but she was penned in by the seat; and he was so damn big, at least 6 foot 4. He leaned down towards her and then; He had kicked her in the face without warning and knocked her onto the floor of the fetid train, and London Commuters: bless them. Not a single soul had come to help her. Screaming obscenities, He had used her soft body as a punching bag.  
She blinked as she relived a blinding flurry of kicks and punches to her head and torso. The rancid smell of His sweat and a sickening crunch, as He had jumped on her forearm. Was that her voice shrieking? It must have been. He rolled her over and kicked at her spine with his heavy boots and it was at this point that she must have mercifully passed out. Now she was awake, and he was nowhere to be seen. Thank God. But the pain. At least the screaming had stopped now.  
She took a deep breath and gingerly tried to roll over and assess the damage. She hissed in agony and stopped moving entirely. She had finally drawn a small crowd. Yay. Where were you Fuckers when I needed you? She sighed and looked down at herself.  
From what she could see of it, her left arm was bowed in the middle and her fingers were all black and blue, she didn’t even bother to try and flex them. She tasted the metallic tang of blood and spat out a mouthful of the warm fluid. Her chest really hurt and she could see the deep bloody welts on her legs, through her shredded pants. What the fuck did he do to her? She was dizzy and so tired now and it really hurt to breathe. Why did it hurt so much to breathe? She carefully reached up with her good arm and felt her face, felt sore swollen cheeks and a puffiness around her mouth, her fingers came away wet with her blood. Her lips were split, and she ran her tongue around her teeth, all were still in place. Small Comfort. But her face was excruciatingly sore, her everything was sore. Her eyes closed in painful contemplation.  
“Now .... a rest, so .... tired, got ....” the thought went incomplete, as she slipped back into blessed unconsciousness. 

When she next awoke, she was lying in a quiet room with white walls, attached to an IV. Her mind filled in the blanks. Hospital. She was in a Hospital. Her left arm was in a splint and she was tucked up under a warm blanket. What had happened? Thoughts racing, her nose twitched and her thoughts slowed, there was a familiar scent in the room. A scent she recognised, would forever recognise. Villanelle.  
Through swollen eyes, and with a raw pained voice: she called out to her  
“Villanelle, is that you?” It smelled like her. A rustling and the dark figure came closer, Villanelle looked tired and her eyes glittered with some deep emotion. Was it rage?  
“Yes. Eve you are awake.” That raspy accent, Eve had missed it. Missed her.  
“What happened? Why are you here?” She couldn’t make sense of anything.  
“Well Eve, it seems that you were attacked on the train and beaten quite badly. Do you remember much?”  
Eve tried not to move her face as she answered tiredly  
“I remember some big guy in black, he was screaming about how I had caused the Coronavirus.... and.... and he called me Chinese ....” Her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. She startled, as a soft hand touched her shoulder, and a warm voice said  
“Oh Eve. Such a stupid man. Can’t even tell the difference between Chinese and Korean. You are safe now. This man will not hurt you again. How do you feel?” Her voice was like a silk caress over her bruised skin. Eve winced and took a shallow breath before answering  
“like I was hit by a truck. What did he do to me?” A lot from the level of pain she was feeling. Patiently, like she was talking to a small child, Villanelle answered her.  
“He did a very good job on you Eve, I just saw the video on YouTube. You have gone viral. They will probably take it down soon.  
He was really big, hey? Your left arm is broken in three places, they will have to operate and the 4 fingers are also broken on this hand, you have 3 broken ribs on the left and 4 cracked ribs on the right side. They should heal up nicely. Your kidneys and spine have both been quite badly bruised. Your beautiful face has some fractures around your eye sockets and you are covered in cuts and bruises, all over your very nice body. He really beat you up bad.” Her smooth voice was almost impressed.  
“Hmmm. Yes he did.” Her eyes closed at the memory.  
Villanelle moved so quickly and without warning, the most tender kiss was placed on her battered lips, Eve relaxed and just listened to the peaceful sound of the Assassin’s even breathing. So close; she was so close. Eyes opening, she looked up at Villanelle and asked her something that had been bothering her, ever since Villanelle had described her injuries so succinctly  
“How did you find out so much about my condition?” Villanelle looked innocently at her and just smirked.  
“oh that’s easy Eve; I just told them I was your Wife”  
“You told them WHAT?” Ouch. Eve tried not to move.  
“Calm down, you know it will happen eventually. I am impossible to resist for too long”. A quick kiss was placed on Eve’s blackened forehead, before she could even begin to unpack that particular statement. She breathed in Villanelle’s scent and she felt safe. Again: the irony. She startled as Villanelle drew back from her; she missed the warmth of her instantly.  
“Gotta run, Baby; things to do and places to be. I have a train to catch. He hurt My Eve. He deserves to die. I will take care of this for you. Yes?”  
And before Eve could answer; she was going jauntily for the exit.  
She stopped in the doorway and smiled gently.  
“Your surgery won’t be for a day or so. Dinner. I will bring soup; which I will cook for you; you will love it: I am an excellent cook. Bye Eve” a wave and then she was gone.  
Once the room was still again, Eve settled down to sleep, the faintest smile on her bloodied lips.


End file.
